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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100263">This is Not My Cat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry'>LadyLondonderry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hybrids, M/M, Meet-Cute, Thunderstorms, this fic is nothing at all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Louis:</b> <i>Help please</i><br/><b>Louis:</b> <i>There is a cat hybrid in my house</i><br/><b>Louis:</b> <i>He just walked in?? He is not speaking to me?? Am I about to get murdered</i></p><p><b>Niall:</b> <i>I don’t text you when strange humans walk into my house you know</i></p><p><b>Louis:</b> <i>That’s because when strange humans walk into your house it’s because you’ve just picked them up at the pub</i><br/><b>Louis:</b> <i>I just need to know if I’m gonna die </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Prompt 1.4: Extract</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This is Not My Cat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "extract". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/extract">click here</a>, and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works">click here</a>. You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge <a href="https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt">here</a>.</p><p> </p><p>Based off of <a href="https://twitter.com/sarahclazarus/status/1277999002655444994?s=20">this tweet.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The air is swelteringly thick in Louis’ flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the height of summer, with the usual records-breaking temperatures plus a side of humidity. Every fan is turned on high but Louis still feels like he’s about ready to fill the bath with ice and climb in just to feel something other than the sweat sticking to his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting the chance to work at home two days a week had seemed like a reprieve when he had first been offered the opportunity, and honestly the chance to not have to engage with his coworkers does still have its appeals, but at least the office has </span>
  <em>
    <span>air con,</span>
  </em>
  <span> something his flat is in severe need of at this very moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat rises, he reminds himself as he drags his duvet and laptop down to the ground floor. It’s a little cooler down here, although still not anything like comfortable. He throws the duvet over the ratty old leather loveseat that sits in his entranceway — the one he only got because he couldn’t figure out what else to put in an entranceway so oddly large. The leather would no doubt stick to his skin (the shorts he’s wearing might as well be boxers for all the coverage they give), so the duvet is a necessity, although it holds in heat like a black seatbelt in the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags the two box fans he’s been able to scrounge up into the room with him and sets them on the floor, pointing directly at the loveseat for maximum air movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he thinks to himself that he’s really not sure how air movement works. Should the door be open? Or will that just let in more hot air? Fans don’t actually cool down the air, do they? Just move the air around a bit? Louis has no clue. He writes culture articles for a living, he’s not a… physicist. Meteorologist? Science man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he opens his door and hopes it’s the right move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Settling down on the loveseat, over the duvet, under his laptop, glass of iced coffee in hand, Louis contemplates the possibility of getting work done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he turns on an episode of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Taskmaster.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay so what actually happens is Louis takes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very small</span>
  </em>
  <span> nap. Barely a nap at all. He merely closes his eyes… for an hour-ish. Time is relative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one should have allowed Louis to work from home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he blinks his eyes open and unsticks his arm from the leather loveseat where the duvet has been pulled aside, he realises that the heat has, ever so slightly, broken. One look out his front door shows why; storm clouds have begun to gather, dark and ominous. Not the kind of British showers that spit down and give the plants a nice refresher, these look like the kind to rattle the windows and expose the leaks in the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis groans and sits up a little, taking a sip of coffee (no longer iced coffee, just a sort of watered-down, cool coffee) and turns his laptop back on. He has to at least get something resembling a draft done before the video call at three. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he does, sort of. Or at least he’s got a basic thesis statement down by the time the first distant crack of thunder echoes through. The sky is dark now but the clouds in his line of sight haven’t broken yet. It’s cooled down enough that Louis has </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> stopped sweating, and he’s gotten into the research groove, three different emails to possibly interview-ees drafted to send. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bends down to grab his phone off of the floor to send a status report off to his boss, Liam, but when he leans back up, movement catches his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement in the form of someone looming in his doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” says Louis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The person is tall, or maybe he just looks that way because Louis’ sitting down. He’s wearing a black hoodie, maroon trousers, and no shoes — an outfit that could have been purposefully curated or could be a completely random ensemble. His hair falls in a mess of curls around his face and </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> his face, but fails to hide the two cat ears just a slightly dustier shade of brown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Louis asks. The hybrid blinks at him, slow and almost lazy, but doesn’t respond. Louis doesn’t know a </span>
  <em>
    <span>ton</span>
  </em>
  <span> of hybrids, but the ones he does are plenty vocal. They also don’t tend to loom threateningly in his doorway, but life is always full of new experiences, he supposes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another peal of thunder, this one close enough to rattle the windows a little, makes the looming man flinch, his shoulders drawing sharply upward. Louis watches as he seems to make a decision of some kind and steps into Louis’ flat, the air around him whipping his curls into a wild state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis purses his lips. “Welcome,” he says. “Uh. To my house.”</span>
</p><p><span>The hybrid is still unresponsive, although his ear flicks as Louis speaks. He looks around at the </span><em><span>fine, fine</span></em> <em><span>furnishings</span></em><span> of Louis’ entryway. The bucket he’s piled his dirty cleats and wellies in, the coat rack that has six umbrellas hanging off of it and only one jacket. The bookcase piled high with all of the textbooks he bought and didn’t read during university. </span></p><p>
  <span>Unlocking his phone while still keeping an eye on the hybrid (not hard to do, he’s not moving particularly fast), Louis shoots off a text to Niall. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Help please</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> There is a cat hybrid in my house</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> He just walked in?? He is not speaking to me?? Am I about to get murdered</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I don’t text you when strange humans walk into my house you know</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> That’s because when strange humans walk into your house it’s because you’ve just picked them up at the pub</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I just need to know if I’m gonna die and/or if he’s in trouble. I know mostly dogs! I don’t know what, like, cat dehydration looks like or anything!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> We’re gonna talk about ur ignorance later bby don’t worry</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Is he blinking at u</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis frowns. The hybrid has decided to squat down in front of his bookcase, making his swaying tail more visible. He’s close enough Louis could reach out and touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> That’s a weird thing to say</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> But yes when he walked in I guess he was??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> You’re in the south end, right? Has the storm reached you yet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Almost</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Nice bc it’s hot as hell</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis: </b>
  <em>
    <span> But not important because he’s currently sniffing my coffee Niall there are more urgent matters</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> He’s a cat Louis</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Most cats don’t like storms</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> His instincts have probably taken over and he’s looking for shelter. Theo won’t leave my side when it’s raining</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Theo is a child</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall: </b>
  <em>
    <span>¯\_(ツ)_/¯ </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Slow blinking means he trusts u</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> So don’t be fucking dumb just let him do his thing</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I’M NOT BEING DUMB THERE’S A STRANGE MAN IN MY HOUSE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I know for a fact there was a strange man in your house yesterday morning u sent me the sneaky butt pic</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Niall:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Just wait to be all weird until after his instincts r under control before you kick him out</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis frowns at his phone. He frowns at the hybrid crouched by his loveseat now gazing up at him with huge eyes. He wasn’t going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>, how rude. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird so it’s not like he was going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird than any other time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… want coffee?” Louis asks. The coffee is probably four hours old but it’s all that’s within reach and Louis is at a loss for what to do for conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that the hybrid seems to be desiring conversation. He’s looking at the basket next to the loveseat — the one that’s full of all the old chargers from around that flat that he’s pretty sure belong to electronics he no longer owns, but is still afraid to get rid of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to… get some work done,” Louis says, because maybe he should not keep staring at this hybrid. Maybe that’s rude. Even if his wild curls flopping in ringlets around his face are pretty fascinating to watch and the way he’s concentrating on inane parts of Louis’ front room is giving Louis a new appreciation for those things along with a knowledge that he should be cleaner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, Louis does not actually get any work done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because as soon as he says that, there is a crack of lightning and a peal of thunder that seem to be coming from directly overhead, and then the clouds finally break, letting loose in the way only a summer storm does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the hybrid lets out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeak</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the hybrid </span>
  <em>
    <span>jumps</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the hybrid lands directly on Louis with enough force to knock the wind out of him and send his laptop sliding onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment Louis assumes that this is how he dies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But after that moment passes, as Louis realises that he is not in fact dying, the hybrid curls himself around Louis’ middle, sticks his nose basically into Louis’ armpit, and curls his legs up around Louis’ other side, his tail tucked up between his knees, and Louis finds himself completely trapped under a man large than him and shaking like a leaf as the rain pelts against the wall and comes right in the open doorway (thankfully mostly just hitting his pail of shoes for the moment). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” is the first thing Louis says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” is the second thing Louis says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rain won’t hurt you,” is the third thing Louis says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am honoured and confused by your wish to shelter in my lap, but I do respect your choices,” is the fourth thing Louis says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Louis stops saying things because really, he’s rather run out of things to say. Sometimes there is only so much conversation to be made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are moments in life when time seems to stand still, and there are moments in life when time seems to speed up, and there are moments in life when time seems to do whatever the fuck it wants to do, and jumps around a whole lot, leaving someone wondering what on earth they’ve just experienced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During this particular moment in time, Louis can’t say which of those happened. In fact, what Louis experiences is perhaps outside of time altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He experiences the feel of the cooling rain, misting in from the open doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He experiences the box fans, making him almost chilly after the onslaught of the storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He experiences the warmth of the man on top of him, the way his body slowly relaxes, his shivering stops, his muscles unclench, his tail uncurls to fall loosely off the side of the loveseat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He experiences a confusing mix of happiness that he might be in some way helping this man not be afraid, and worry that he’s in way over his head with whatever is happening here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, there’s not much he can do for a while, because there’s no way he’s going to risk moving the hybrid laying heavily across his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time continues and the storm waxes and wanes and Louis’ entryway is definitely getting a bit soggy, but the only real problem starts up when he realises it’s approaching three and that means he needs to attend a video call very soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That problem becomes more complex when he realises that the man on top of him has </span>
  <em>
    <span>fallen asleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ laptop is on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a stranger on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone is also on the floor. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but still not accessible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis has to… extract himself, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man on top of him, while he isn’t clean shaven, smells like he showered not too long ago. This isn’t at all related to Louis’ need to extract himself and reach his laptop, it’s just a fun observation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man also has deep circles under his eyes and broad shoulders. These are also just fun observations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis considers how bad it would be to just… not show up to the video call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Pretty bad. Liam has said that if anyone doesn’t show up, he will assume they are in trouble and come check on them at their respective homes. Louis doesn’t doubt this to be true). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Fine. Louis will have to wake him up, since the hybrid has him very well pinned to the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” says Louis. “Excuse me.” He pushes the man’s shoulder, lightly. Then a little harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man does seem to wake, at least a little. He groans and then rolls over so that he’s face down on Louis’ chest. Then he starts making </span>
  <em>
    <span>noise. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second Louis thinks he’s growling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he thinks he’s snoring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he realises he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>purring.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p><span>It’s deep and rumbly and</span> <span>loud, loud </span><em><span>loud,</span></em><span> Louis can feel the vibrations in his chest. </span></p><p>
  <span>He’s never in his life felt so flattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That scene from the end of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mulan</span>
  </em>
  <span> flashes through his head. Sure, this man could still be a serial killer or some other nefarious thing, but in this moment Louis feels himself melting into the love seat, the voice of the grandma from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mulan</span>
  </em>
  <span> echoing; </span>
  <em>
    <span>would you like to stay forever?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No one told him a hybrid’s purr felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>like this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It will be worth it, missing the video call and Liam assuming he’s dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, it would be. Except the next thing that happens is that Louis’ laptop, still on the ground near his feet, starts playing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>incoming call</span>
  </em>
  <span> noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wakes the hybrid, who sits bolt-upright, one hand on the love seat and one hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>crushing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Louis’ sternum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s eyes are wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at Louis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis stares back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” says the man. His voice is deep and gorgeous, but he’s not purring anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he says again as he clambers off of him. “Fuck, fuck fuck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he runs out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis watches him go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he picks up his computer and answers the video call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days go by where Louis thinks forlornly about the man who broke into his flat and took a nap on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days where he continues to go back downstairs to work with the door open, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Three days of googling for clickbait articles with titles like </span>
  <em>
    <span>What It Means If Your Hybrid Boyfriend Purrs For You</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Help My Hybrid Girlfriend Never Purrs</span>
  </em>
  <span> and A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hybrid On The Train Stared At Me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fourth day, though, someone does show up at his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not Louis’ hybrid, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a woman with long, straight brown hair and dark freckles and two little cat ears perched above her fringe, who drops off a note and says, when realising the door is wide open so she has to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> “My brother’s an embarrassment and I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she’s gone Louis lunges for the letter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s in chicken-scratch and not very easy to make out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To the neighbour in flat 28—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry. I’m mortified. I was out on a jog but then it started to storm and my instincts took over. I saw your open door and apparently I thought you were a safe place to stay. That was super weird of me and I promise it won’t happen again so please don’t worry about leaving your door open. Or do, because I clearly know where you live and you probably think I’m a total freak. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you happen to </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> think I’m a total freak and would like me to bake you some sweets, or you would simply like to yell at me for doing such a dumb thing, my phone number is below. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. I don’t remember a lot of what I did but you were very nice from what I remember, so if you were then thank you very much. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>xx Harry</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Louis smiles very wide. He grabs his phone and opens up a new text.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> Hello, this is the neighbor in flat 28. My friends call me Louis</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I think that you were not very weird at all and would love some sweets</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I would also like to know why you were jogging without shoes on</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get a reply immediately. It actually takes long enough he starts to worry that he came on too strong. But then—</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Harry:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I was jogging through the grass in the park across the road</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Harry:</b>
  <em>
    <span> It feels better under your feet and you don’t have to worry about matching socks</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Harry:</b>
  <em>
    <span> How do you feel about lava cake? I have some in the oven</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I feel very good about it</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> If you’re willing to come eat one with me too so I can get to know my unexpected house guest</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry takes a while to respond to that one too, but Louis figures he might as well push his luck now rather than make things awkward later.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I’ve had some odd things happen to me in my time, but a very cute stranger coming in to take a nap on my lap is up there. Definitely had worse experiences though. X</span>
  </em>
</p><p><b>Harry:</b> <span>( … )</span><b><br/>
</b><b>Harry:</b><em><span> I’ll be over in ten with cake</span></em></p><p>
  <b>Louis:</b>
  <em>
    <span> :)i</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you happened to get any... happiness? Out of this, reblog <a href="https://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/622910635652628480/this-is-not-my-cat-ladylondonderry">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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